Luftmensch
by S.N. Rainsworth
Summary: Seto Kaiba's fall from grace is anything, if not, graceful. [slash, S/J]
1. prologue

**a/n: **in any case, I really shouldn't be starting a new fic - chaptered, nonetheless, but it's been stuck in my head and wow whaddya know I have a keyboard. poor, abused keyboard.

I don't even _like_ puppyshipping, what the hell am I doing? (okay no, I lied, it really grew on me. fuck.)

also, yes. I know the prologue is short. shut up.

* * *

**Luftmensch  
**(n.) an impractical dreamer with no business sense; one with their head in the clouds.

"_i do not need a bouquet  
for someone to grieve for me._"  
- kalafina, "manten"

* * *

**prologue** - _it is, in fact, a grave problem._

* * *

Jouunouchi had a problem.

It wasn't a great problem, nor was it a grave problem, but it was, in fact, still a _problem_. It wouldn't be that _much_ of a problem if he had thought to _think_ beforehand, but Jounouchi was not known for thinking. And in the odd situation where one of his problems _did_ require him to think, Jounouchi usually had adrenaline pounding in his blood, and perhaps a few broken bones.

It was sad, now that he thought about it, that he only really thought when he was in the middle of getting beat up.

Actually, he didn't really see the difference in his situation here either, but there was something nearly the same there. The same being the metallic stench of blood and alcohol, the shortening of breath, the sickening crunch of bone. Nearly, being that in a _real_ street fight, Jounouchi would be on his feet and thinking quite fast, and in this fight, his head only seemed to respond to one thing.

Fear.

Catching his breath, Jounouchi dared not to breathe as his heavy footfalls walked away from him and into the hallway. Soon after, a loud bang was heard, signaling that his father had finally dropped dead wasted on his bed, and probably wouldn't get up for another few hours. Or maybe even a day, if Jounouchi was lucky.

He wasn't lucky now. Now was the price for that luck.

Something in his chest cavity hurt like a _bitch_, but Jounouchi took shallow, deep breaths while he could - ignoring the brief flashes of pain flowering inside him. He prayed to god, prayed to his ancestors, prayed to fucking _anyone_ that nothing was seriously broken or bleeding. His old man never dared to hit him that bad, but sometimes his control slipped. Jounouchi always thought of a time when his father's "control slipped" usually just meant a stern face and a scolding. Long gone was that man, buried in alcohol and misery.

His head was hurting too, except Jounouchi was pretty sure that was because he was thinking too much. It always hurt to think. He'd rather take things at face value than do that.

His side felt pretty tender, near his hip, and after running his fingers over the tender flesh he surmised that bruise had formed. There was a few more - one on his leg, one on his bicep - but nothing too serious as the one on his side. Luckily he wasn't limping, or had anything he couldn't hide. If needed, he could probably explain the bruise on his arm and leg as a little rough housing with his friends. Not his father. No, that'd be something else.

Jounouchi gave a little laugh and cough at the thought of telling his gym teacher straight out that his father beat him whenever the mood hit. Oh, how he'd like to see the man's expressive face bloat or redden. Sometimes Jounouchi thought he was fucked up for thinking stuff like that. Better to not think at all.

He spent an hour on the floor like that, feeling pathetic, feeling goddamn _weak_, and did nothing but breathe and keep in and out of consciousness. Eventually, he forced himself to get up, pushing the heels of his hands against the wooden floor and leaning on the wall for support until his back cracked in the effort to stand up straight. It felt good, but Jounouchi still grimaced. He'd have to take it easy for the next few days.

Padding quietly to the bathroom, he fumbled with the medicine cabinets as stars quickly flashed past his eyes. Groaning quietly, Jounouchi brought a hand to the side of his cheek, where he had been scraped - probably with glass from one of good 'ol dad's bottles - and smeared his cheek with blood. _Fucker_.

Jounouchi spent the next few minutes wrapping a few cuts, cleaning some, and then washing his face. Blond hair hung limply in his hazel-brown eyes, sometimes amber in the sunlight, sometimes rather boringly dark in the depths of his own miserliness.

He went to the kitchen and got an ice pack from their barely working fridge, pressing it down on his bruises to stop the swelling, and kept an easy hand on his chest to help him breathe. Certainly didn't feel like anything was broken.

Lazily, he looked at the time on their digital clock on the wall. _2:34 AM._ School started at eight thirty tomorrow, and it took at least a half hour to get there. He still had homework to finish.

_Well_, Jounouchi thought tiredly, with the patience of one who'd done something like this many times before, _I'll take what I can get._

What Jounouchi got was a bunch of homework crappily done, a massive headache, and an aching limbs. It was nearly three thirty, which meant he did most of his homework sloppily in an hour, and now he had nothing else to spend his time on. Most people would, in fact, take this time to sleep. Jounouchi was not one of these people.

But he needed sleep. He needed to get better, and even he, Jounouchi, dumbass extraordinaire, knew that when he was passed out cold his body took to using it's fast metabolism to patch itself up. By morning, he should at least be able to walk around, even though he would be greatly sore. Jounouchi rubbed his tired eyes, grunting quietly, before walking slowly to the bathroom once more.

He popped two sleeping pills from the cabinet and dry-swallowed, already making a plan to skip school tomorrow morning. He'd just go to work instead. Since his father was getting worse and worse from more and more alcohol, Jounouchi had been taking a lot of days off. Hopefully, he wouldn't be held back. Thank God for his doctor's easy signature.

Slightly flitty and feeling something unpleasant churn in his stomach, Jounouchi dropped rather abruptly on his bed, closing his eyes and letting himself go into a black haze.

/

Yugi Mouto was many things, but an idiot he was not.

Naive, maybe. Innocent(ly corrupt, cough). A bit of an airhead at times. But he wasn't stupid. And he certainly wasn't _going_ to be stupid when it came to his best friend, Katsuya Jounouchi. After all, one only needed a passing look and a smile to be eased of fears. Yugi made sure that his fears never escaped his grasp, or else he wouldn't be so alert when it came to Jou.

He knew Jounouchi had problems. Knew that the other had a tough home situation, knew that he had been forced to do things and see things that a teenager - or child, if Yugi's suspicions were right - should never see. And no matter how hard Jounouchi tried to hide, Yugi always had a knack for seeing the unseen.

There was no proof, usually. Jounouchi's clothes usually covered his bruises, and whatever he had was usually a week or two old by the time they stripped down for PE. Anything could be explained by a fist fight or a sudden jump in the allies at home. Jounouchi didn't live in the nicest neighborhood, everyone knew that. The blond wasn't exactly quiet about it.

In fact, one would think that it wouldn't be hard to figure out Katsuya Jounouchi. He was an easy going person. Nice, hotheaded, loyal to a fault, all that happy stuff. But Yugi saw those lifeless eyes staring out into the distance sometimes, the stern line of his mouth in a grim frown that spoke more than it should. Spoke of a will shaped through blood and a talent for keeping secrets. People - including their own friends, for god's sake - thought Katsuya Jounouchi was an easy person to figure out.

Yugi knew better.

He never said anything, though, if Jou came in one morning with a limp or if he didn't have lunch to eat. He never did anything when Jounouchi seemed to be in pain while walking down the hallway, or flinched when someone touched him before smiling and pretending it never happened. Yugi didn't really know why. Maybe he was still confused. Maybe he was still unsure. Maybe he didn't _want_ to believe that his best friend was going through his own personal hell. Yugi really, _really_ hoped that wasn't the case.

His hopes were very much foiled when Jounouchi failed to show up that morning.

It could've been anything - oversleeping, skipping, simple _laziness_ - but Yugi still felt bothered by it nonetheless. Still felt that prodding unease.

The teacher began talking, but Yugi slumped down on his seat and tried very much to focus when all he could see was the empty desk right next to his.


	2. chapter I

**a/n: **oh look! new chapter! over 6K words! I don't think I've ever written that much for a chapter before. I actually planned to write more, but hey, I had to cut it off _somewhere_. I mean really, what's the fun if it's over before it started? also, nothing is beta'ed. IF THERE ARE MISTAKES, TELL ME. I will fix them like a wolf on the hunt.

but anyways, I'm kind of confused about everything in this fic. I dunno where I stand. should I make things fluffy, should I make them serious, should I write them better integrated into Japanese culture, should I stop giving so much effort...in any case, enjoy the chapter, boo-hoo la-dee-da and all that crap. foot-notes given to you at the bottom because I'm a pop-culture junkie like that. do you understand how much food studying I had to do for this. be happy, people. _be happy_.

* * *

**Luftmensch  
**(n.) an impractical dreamer with no business sense; one with their head in the clouds.

"_To live is to suffer, but to survive; well, that is to find some meaning in the suffering."  
_- friedrich nietzsche

* * *

**chapter I_ - _**_to do well, or not to do well_

* * *

Jounouchi would say that he did pretty good for himself.

Cleaning up nicely, he pushed back damp locks of hair that slipped out of his small ponytail. Long hair was a bitch, but he strangely preferred it over short hair. Long hair covered hand prints on the back of his neck, concussions, hid secrets whereas short hair didn't. Besides, it kept him warm during the winter. Summer was always a bitch.

Jounouchi hated summers for more than one reason.

It was ironic that he worked in a place called the Natsu no Ringo. Strange, strange name, he knew, but since he liked money and something to do, Jounouchi headed into the little restaurant and off into the back, where the employee lockers were. His boss thought he was nineteen, and he was able to keep it up too - but sometimes the look in the older, portly man's eye told him that he _knew_ Jounouchi was underage.

It sort of made Jounouchi like the man even more.

The Natsu wasn't all that fun, and it had a strange sort of ambience that made it seem dim and warm even in the coldest of nights, but it was work. And sometimes Jounouchi got to spend one day without thinking too hard.

His problem was always that he thought too much.

He skipped school that day to bring in a full eight hours. With luck (oh, that blasted _word_) he would be able to have some extra money in his pocket and his father wouldn't ever have to know. His other job wasn't all that available right now anyway. A spare thought reminded him that Yugi was still in school, and so was Honda and Anzu and the rest of his friends, but at this moment he really couldn't care. He was past being a freshman full of zeal all the time. All the energy was slowly being sapped out of him.

Putting on his white apron, Jounouchi tied up his hair at the nape of his neck and entered through the back of the kitchen, where the head chef and owner, also known to them as Takashi-sama, was looking over everyone with a critical eye. Jounouchi clocked in before heading into the man's line of vision.

Takashi was a round, port man, with a small mustache and light eyes that seemed to stare everyone through to their last bone. Sometimes Jounouchi always thought Takashi knew more than he was letting on, but he always seemed to smile at his chefs with that fatherly smile of his. When Takashi saw Jounouchi, he raised a hand and set it on Jounouchi's shoulder briefly, who didn't flinch at his touch like he did with most people. Washing his hands on the nearest sink, he mumbled out a quiet good morning.

"Morning to you as well, my fine _sous-chef_," he greeted a little bit too happily.

Although Jounouchi had heard this on more than one account, he still flushed with embarrassment and the tiniest hint of pride. "Stop that, I'm nowhere _near_ a _sous-chef_ level, much less yours."

Takashi laughed, a loud sound that sounded down-to-earth. "Ah, m'boy, that's for me to decide and for you to follow. Being a _sous-chef_ is more than just cooking well. And you _do _cook well."

"What's it 'bout, then?"

"Having heart," Takashi nodded to himself. "And taking leadership. Is it so bad of me to see that I can see you doing both, m'boy?"

Unknown to Takashi, who was still staring at the few chefs that came in for early shifts, Jounouchi gave a thin smile. Even when he was starved of love and told himself he didn't need affection, hearing compliments still made him preen like a child. He forced himself to stand up straight and dry his hands.

"I'm fine with bein' a line cook," Jounouchi assured him. "Being a _sous-chef_ means bossin' around other people an' I don' think I'd be up to that. Mostly I jus' like makin' things."

Takashi gave him a smile. "Being my second-in-command doesn't mean you'll be deprived of cooking all together. It's been awhile since I've seen a person with your natural inclination for this work!" he paused. "In fact, the last person was most probably me!"

Jounouchi snorted in spite of himself. _Crazy old man._

"Maybe in a year or two," Takashi mused, and Jounouchi casually made his way to an empty station when he heard the line. A year or two. After Jounouchi had turned eighteen and, in fact, would be completely legal. Away from his father. Able to stay out of school - like he always planned - and maybe get past the National Center Test, and then find his way into a good culinary school, and make it back here to start his life _right_.

So for know, he'd settle for being the jack-of-all trades guy. They had a one of each of the station chefs, but Joey was unsure for which he was best at, so he usually just learned from all of them. Takashi certainly approved, and it wasn't like most of them minded. In fact, some of them seemed...a bit too enthusiastic teaching something the tools of their trade. Jounouchi put it to the fact that they inhaled too many fumes.

Today most of the usual chefs were in, and if it weren't for their nametags, Jounouchi wouldn't know half of them.

As it was, their patissier wasn't here in the morning, so Jounouchi was put in his place. Which was fine enough - Shizuka certainly liked sweets, and went absolutely crazy whenever Jounouchi brought handmade pastries for her. He'd taken a liking for sweets just for that reason.

He didn't have to do much at this point - he began the batter to make bread and left some to press later so he could cut the sheets finely and make them into croissants. Despite having a very Japanese name, Natsu no Ringo actually served cuisine similar to French food. It was all Takashi's fault, bastard being taught in France. _Pffffft_.

Just like that, an hour or two passed by rather quickly. Jounouchi forgot all about the bruises on his arms as he pushed his sleeves up, but no one commented on them. Chefs bumbled around and there were many things to get hurt by in the kitchen - trays, trolleys, even _knives_ for god's sake. Couldn't really blame anyone if you were clumsy.

For this, Jounouchi was grateful. He actually felt needed and in his element here, instead of at home or school, two places he'd come to slowly despise. Well, school wasn't that bad, considering he had Yugi and Honda and all his other friends in store. Home, however, couldn't even be called home anymore, but Jounouchi's brain refused to label it something else for the meanwhile.

He'd gone on to make some of the _real _desserts when orders came in. Cakes, pies, and tarts were things he could do easily. He couldn't make it as fine or delicate or even taste as amazing as the real patissier did, but Jounouchi thought he did a pretty damn good job. His hand-eye coordination was always good, and so he found that dealing with an icing cone or a small spoon for chocolate sauces wasn't all that much of a challenge after a while.

Of course, he refused to acknowledge his gang-related past that gained his hand-eye coordination, but hey, all's well that ends well.

It was around noon, where the windows were all open and the scent of freshly baking bread attracted customers from both sides of the street, did Jounouchi take a breather to drink so water and pat his head down. At current, it was the middle of May, so he really shouldn't have been absent so early in the year, but ah, well - who cares. The spring weather was quickly turning into the summer he so despised, and Jounouchi pushed back strands of hair that was starting to fall into his eyes.

"Uh...Jounouchi-san?"

At the timid voice calling him by such a formal term, Jounouchi almost dropped his tray of bread - but he didn't, because that would've been extremely unprofessional of him, and he barely got to put the tray down on the counter before meeting eyes with a waitress.

"What's up?" he asked, taking off his oven mitts. "And, ah...please call me Jounouchi-kun if you must." Jounouchi-san was his father. Jounouchi himself wasn't his father.

The waitress nodded, her brown hair bobbing up and down. "A table would like to give their compliments to you. They were very impressed with your dessert."

Jounouchi was taken aback. "Me? Whatcha' talkin' 'bout?"

The waitress nodded. "One of the clients would like to speak to you personally for a few moments."

For a while, the blond just gaped, until he was brought back to his senses. Looking around for Takashi, he spotted him near a saucier, patiently showing him something.

He jerked his head toward the man. "Well, if the boss says it's okay, I'll follow ya."

The waitress' face immediately turned to the direction he was pointing at, but she wordlessly went over, and after a few minutes of talking and Jounouchi standing tensely still, she came back with an affirmed nod.

He sighed and tightened his ponytail, before smoothing down his apron - no doubt, dirty - before wiping his hands on a nearby dishtowel. "Alright, let's go," he said, sounding quite distracted.

The waitress didn't comment on his attire, but lead him out of the back door and to a table near the back of the restaurant.

Jounouchi blinked. Then he blinked again. Unable to help himself, a flare of ire rose up in him as he met eyes very briefly with Seto Kaiba, CEO of KaibaCorp, and he fought gallantly to keep a scowl off his face.

The waitress bowed politely and said, "This is one of our chefs. He's the one that made the dessert today, sir." Jounouchi would be lying if he didn't feel a flush of pride from that.

Then he realized that she wasn't talking to Kaiba, but rather to the man sitting across from him. He wore a dark blue suit and looked very neat and pressed, with straight black hair and flint gray eyes behind glasses. Despite his cold exterior, when Jounouchi shook hands with him, he seemed friendly.

"Thank you for your delightful dessert, ah..."

"Katsuya Jounouchi," he filled in helpfully, thanking all the gods and ancestors above that he had wiped his hands beforehand.

"Well, Jounouchi-san." Here, Jounouchi flinched, but only the tiniest bit. "It really was deserving of praise. I've always had a sweet tooth and the insight to appraise when needed." He nodded to Jounouchi. "Haruto Mazuomi. I'll definitely come back to this fine place for more lunches with my associates, and maybe even my wife next time."

"I can give you another portion of your order for your wife," Jounouchi offered, unsure of what to do, but thinking that it was the right thing to do. Apparently, it was - Mazuomi's eyes glittered in happiness, and he gave a brief smile. "I'd say, Kaiba-san, don't you think this place deserves another visit?"

Kaiba, for the most part, didn't say anything, but Jounouchi refused to look at him. He knew what he would see there anyway; contempt, arrogance, the same old superiority rearing it's ugly head. Kaiba was an open book, sometimes.

But if Jounouchi had looked, he would've saw nothing in those blue eyes of his except a bit of suspicion and rigidness that was the norm for the elder Kaiba.

"Hm," he said, sounding neutral, "It was...satisfying."

How neutral.

Jounouchi forced himself not to punch the bastard's lights out.

Instead, he gave a semi-genuine smile toward Mazuomi. "I'll have a waiter drop something off for you."

Jounouchi didn't ask what the man wanted. All he needed to do was look for that table number's order, and since he was pretty sure he didn't make anything completely solo, he was fine. Walking rather stiffly into the back room, a flash of fear pressed through him as what happened sunk in.

Kaiba _saw_ him. Seto Kaiba, the annoyed _bastard_ that made his life a living hell for years now. What if he went and ran his annoying mouth at school? He would definitely be fired from his job - no one wanted their own hides to be in danger - and he would be out of money _and_ one of the only source of happiness he had left. Out of pure habit, his hands clenched into fists, nearly turning his knuckles white. No. No, Kaiba may be able to make him feel like utter crap and Kaiba may be able to make him feel worthless (because he _is_ worthless) but Kaiba wouldn't take this away from him.

Jounouchi wouldn't let him.

With that thought, Jounouchi forced himself to relax and made his way back to his station before taking out one of the pale boxes they had just for this occasion (Takashi loathed leftovers) and figured out the order of table four, the one that they were seated on. There was one order for a _mille-feuille_, and another order for a slice of angel cake. Jounouchi was unsure of which to put in, so he placed a piece of puff pastry on red tissue paper and placed it on one side of the box before slicing another piece of lemon and creme angel cake and doing the same. It was quickly finished off with a red satin bow, along with a small tag in which Jounouchi wrote in his very neatest; _Natsu no Ringo_. There were few times when the cooks would be forced to do this, seeing as how most people finished their food in the restaurant or paid for a second dish, rather than taking it home, but they usually did have their bloated client or impatient child. Jounouchi allowed himself to breath as he stood up and looked around for the nearest waiter or waitress.

"Monoko!" he called out, catching the attention of a woman who's obviously artificial red hair was pinned up behind her head. He waved her over. Her heels clicked on the tiles as she came up to his side.

"What up, Jou?" Monoko was straight out of college, and she seemed to breeze through everything as far as Jounouchi knew her.

Gently, he placed the box in her hands. "Be a real doll an' give this to table four, a Mazuomi-san, wouldja?"

Monoko flashed him a smile. "Anything for you, Jou." She patted him on the shoulder and picked up the box on her tray, fixing the napkin resting on her forearm on the way. Jounouchi's eyes followed her out the entire way.

As soon as the doors closed, he turned back to his work.

* * *

Seto Kaiba wasn't having a good day.

If it wasn't for the fact that his morning coffee burnt his tongue or his newest files were misplaced by his _imbecile _of a secretary, it was the fact that Mokuba had gotten sick - and really sick, not the fake sick that he pretends to fall into once or twice to skip school - and so the younger Kaiba sibling was left alone in his bed for the day. Seto may have been a lot of things, but what he was not unfeeling.

...Not that many people could claim to that.

Mokuba at home, without the proper care that Seto could give him (because who could ever take care of his little brother better than he could?) made Seto nervous. What if he wasn't given his medicine? What if Mokuba _refused_ to take his medicine? What if no one could hear him while he was all alone, sick, on his bed...and not to mention the lapses in security there would be - no way would one of the guards be hanging around Mokuba's room all day and still be sharp without being on some sort of steroid, which Seto _definitely_ did not approve of. Mokuba, unlike his usual cheerful personality, was rather blank and gray when ill. He didn't move much or talk much, and was never in the mood to do anything, leaving Seto missing the part of Mokuba that made him - _Mokuba_. Something he often took for granted.

And if there wasn't enough extra worry and stress from Mokuba's sick day, there was the usual CEO business that was quickly grating on his temper. It was amazing how he didn't have any sort of high blood pressure already. Seto could feel the vein pop out in his forehead just _thinking_ of the idiots in his company. What possessed him to hire those imbeciles, anyway?

They were fine at first glance, Seto grumbled to himself. Of course, he wouldn't have chosen them at all without a passing grade in the week-long trial Seto usually gave them, but monsters eventually let their true colors show when they were comfortable, didn't they?

Seto would rather be a one-man company sometimes, but even he knew that was stupid and impossibly. He needed his pawns, after all.

Besides, whatever wasn't done correctly, he would do himself. Granted, that always meant thoroughly going over the finer details of his company, but that was how KaibaCorp had lasted this long, dammit.

He also experienced much chagrin when his ride to a very important business meeting was going wrong - they had to replace the driver - which led to him being ten minutes late and giving off the impression of an irresponsible teen CEO, even though everyone and their mother knew that Seto Kaiba was anything but irresponsible.

His business partner didn't seen to take it too badly, though. He was a pleasant man, sharp, a little dimwitted, but Seto couldn't care about that. Haruto Mazuomi was one of the last shareholders left of the most recent teddy bear company he was trying to buy, and if he could convince this man to allow him to have control...

It was the only good thing that had happened so far. Mazuomi agreed placidly, stating that he had no need for much of the corporation anymore and would be going into retirement soon with his wife and family. He was a family man, Seto realized, which was rare in the world of business. It was...nice, actually, to see that. Mazuomi had earned props in his book for that, but mostly it was for his easy submittal to Seto's wishes. On some days, he liked challenges, of course - but most, like these, he appreciated things going his way.

He gained points in Mazuomi's book as well. He liked the restaurant Seto had chosen to reserve - a French establishment, not too over the top but certainly not a run-of-the-mill diner - and he certainly like Seto's polite attitude saved for occasions like this.

It was only when he saw Katsuya Jounouchi did his day start to take another sharp swerve.

The blond, surprisingly, refused to look at him throughout the whole thing, and only seemed to pay attention to his associate. It irked something close in Seto, who was used to having all of Jounouchi's blunt anger toward him, instead of this new Jounouchi who coolly _ignored_ him like he _wasn't_ one of the most important people in the world.

Seto didn't really know why, and so he found himself slipping into his usual reaction when he was left in a rare confusing situation - he closed off, and rather tersely. Luckily, Jounouchi hadn't even met his eyes more than the one time of realization. That, too, irritated the brunette.

Jounouchi left afterward, his steps long and terse, and they waited in a frigid silence on Seto's part until Mazuomi received his desserts. The man shook his hands and they both left the premises. It was afternoon when he got back into his company car, shrugging off his tie ever so slightly for air. From here on out, Seto could only hope that his day would get better, but knowing his life, it probably wouldn't. In fact, he'd say that he jinxed himself something quite nasty if this sordid morning had anything to do with it.

Seto's mind was caught on the the curling ends of Jounouchi's ponytail on the ride to his company, despite it all.

"Big brother," Mokuba called out weakly as Seto entered their large mansion at nearly ten at night. He was greeted with a soft embrace around his middle as Mokuba welcomed him home. Usually Mokuba would be bouncing up and down in happiness and going across the moon to have his brother home (it was quite endearing, actually) but now he simply limped in Seto's embrace, if not giving him a tired smile.

"How are you feeling?" Seto murmured, unable to help the gentleness flooding his voice.

"I'm really hungry," Mokuba mumbled back. "Did you bring any food, Seto?"

Seto frowned. "Didn't the maids make you anything?"

At this, Mokuba pulled away and tugged nervously at his hair. "W-well, they were all so tired, so I thought - I thought that they should've just taken a break, y'know, so I told them to go home for the day. That was before I realized I was hungry, which was like, an hour ago - so please don't do anything rash, okay brother?"

Seto found it amusing, how Mokuba was able to talk so much even though he was so drained physically. Nothing could stop his motor mouth. Still, Seto found it slightly reassuring - if Mokuba was beginning to talk a lot, then he was also starting to get better. And nothing made him feel better than that.

"It's fine," he replied coolly. "What do you want to eat? I'll order something for you."

At this, Mokuba frowned. His eyes trailed to one of the open windows, letting in a cool night breeze and giving a nice view of the buildings outside.

"Actually, big brother," Mokuba started quietly, "I was wondering if we could eat somewhere outside?"

"Absolutely not," was the immediate reply. "You're still sick, and it's _cold_ outside - "

"Not it's not," Mokuba insisted, "It's _spring_, Seto. It's _nice_ outside. I feel so miserable stuck inside all day. Please? Can we go outside to eat? Plus, I know you haven't eaten anything either, and we'll be in the car the whole time. Please?"

Seto knew that Mokuba had some very good points. Seto listened to reason, which was why Mokuba often fought back with reason. And while it worked sometimes, the main reason why Seto gave in to his brother was because Mokuba had said that he felt miserable inside. Seto knew, as well as anything who had to keep up with physical health, that it took more than just medicine and shots to keep someone well. There also had to be the will to get better. So Seto sighed and shrugged on his coat, not bothering to put on his blazer. Mokuba grinned widely and trailed after him in his t-shirt and pajama pants, slipping on sneakers before putting on a light sweater.

"Thank you, Seto!" Mokuba had a happy smile on his face, even as Seto was regretting taking his car keys out. The way Mokuba was able to manipulate him was amazing.

Seto couldn't have been prouder. Or more irritated.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked finally, just getting on the road.

Mokuba seemed to ponder about it seriously for a while, and after a moment, he began to cross off choices by speaking aloud. "I don't want to go to McDonalds because they're starting to make me sick, as well as the other fast food chains. Plus, I want a real dinner. Say, Seto, can we go to any restaurant you like?"

"Any place I like would be closed by now," he replied instantaneously. It was true; Seto's choice of eatery was usually those fancy places that only stayed up until the first sign of sunset. Then, it was all reservations and banquet halls and parties that took place. A person who really had no other place left to go could eat there. Seto disliked other peoples' chatter unless it directly pertained to him.

"What about that place that I reserved for you two weeks ago? That Italian store?"

Seto shook his head mutely.

"The sushi restaurant on fifth street?"

Again, a shake of the head. He knew for a fact that the sushi restaurant closed at around eight. It was one of his favorites.

Mokuba frowned and sniffled. "Well what about the one from today? Your business meeting, right? You don't go to any place you dislike, so you must like that place, right? Is it close by? Do you think you could check if it's open?"

Seto was about to negate that statement too, but for some reason, his mouth opened and he found himself closing it again. That little French place was a place that was quickly growing favorable; he had found it about a month ago, and it's food was divine. It was also dim and rather quiet, not loud like other restaurants. There was barely any pitter patter of laughter that usually came with those places, and everything was a low mumble. He knew for a fact that the place opened until midnight, and then it closed indefinitely until it opened at nine AM again tomorrow morning.

His mind's eye flashed him a memory of blond hair, and his knuckles turned white around the steering wheel.

"Big brother?" Mokuba's voice cut into his thoughts quietly. "What do you say?"

"We can go there," he said tentatively. Seto found himself _wanting_ to go there. It was such a strong desire that he found himself gritting his teeth and forcing himself to feel the opposite. No, he didn't _want_ to. Things such as desire were silly and unbecoming. Desire led to the downfall of many men. Seto Kaiba didn't _want_ things.

He needed Mokuba's happiness.

So he changed routes and drove on.

It didn't take long. Seto got out of his car and a surprised valet met his eyes before looking down quickly. The man walked forward and gave a surprisingly poised greeting, but refused to meet Seto's eyes. He gave his keys to the valet and steered his little brother inside, his hand on Mokuba's shoulder. The younger Kaiba looked visibly better, with a bit of color rising back into his cheeks.

There was barely any people here, and for that Seto was grateful. He scanned around the mainly empty tables and saw a couple of waiters and cleaners picking up plates. There was an easy silence, especially after the run down of the working day. Everyone seemed to be taking it easy.

Except for Mokuba, who brightened up and said quite loudly, "Jou!"

Seto, by default, looked to where Mokuba's voice echoed. The blond was, indeed, nearby a table. He had a large black box perched on his hip, and he looked rather bedraggled. Other than jumping a little when Mokuba called his name, he didn't seem like he was full of energy like he usually did (and spending that energy on sneering Seto's name every chance he got).

"M-Mokuba," Jounouchi barely had time to compose himself before Mokuba ran full throttle into him, hugging him around the middle. Seto felt a pang of jealousy. He didn't like the fact that Mokuba found a figure to look up to other than himself.

With a sniff, Mokuba gave a watery grin toward Jounouchi, whose face softened. His grip on the box loosened, and he set aside slightly to the table without breaking Mokuba's grip. "How have ya been, kid?"

A man tapped Seto on the shoulder. It was the maitre'd, who obviously recognized him from earlier. "Would you like a table, sir?"

"I've got the cold, so I've been stuck inside all day! But big brother let me go out, so I thought it'd be nice to come here for dinner! I didn't know that you worked here, Jou!"

Seto nodded mutely.

Jounouchi ruffled Mokuba's bangs. "I work in the kitchen, kid."

"Are you like, the busboy?"

Funny, Seto thought, that would be the first thing that would've come to mind when thinking about Jounouchi working in a place like this. Not that he thought about it.

The blond huffed, poking Mokuba on the forehead. "Listen here kid - I'm one of the _cooks_, which means that I make yer food, got it?" Despite his words, his tone was easygoing and friendly, and he picked up the last few dishes on the remaining table before Seto made his way over to his brother.

"Seto really loves this place," Mokuba chimed, "It's one of his favorite restaurants. How long have you been working here?"

Oh god.

Seto didn't know what he expected, but kept his expression schooled into something blank. It was to his surprise only when Jounouchi gave him a surprised glance and turned back to Mokuba. "Ah, I've been workin' here for well over two an' a half months, I guess."

Seto had been coming here for a good portion of that time. He ignored the slight irritation that was building up in him, the restless anger. So he was eating that fleabag's food for a _while_ now?

His jaw tensed, but he didn't move or say a word. At the moment, a portly man walked up beside them, a peculiar look on his face. He didn't seem worried, but was almost vaguely confused. "Is there something wrong, Jounouchi?" He addressed the blond directly, but not before giving a respectful not to Seto and Mokuba. At least the man knew respect, even though one of the people he was giving it to was still wearing his pajamas.

"Nothin', boss," Jounouchi murmured. He gave a large smile that seemed a bit too tight. "I just recognize these guys, is all. They wan' ta sit at this table. Is there anyone left in?"

The man, whom Seto could only conclude was the manager - and perhaps head chef, by his clothes - looked visibly relieved. "Oh, that's all? Well gentlemen, please take your seats. I'm afraid a lot of my employees have left for the evening, but I'll have a waiter come by for your order immediately." He gave them a pleasant smile.

"If Jou is one of the cooks, can he make our food?" Mokuba gasped, sitting down on his chair before pulling it in like Seto taught him to. Still, he bounced in his seat, far more excited than a thirteen year old boy should be. "Jou, is your food good?"

The head chef laughed. "Good? M'boy, I say, if this here man wasn't so stubborn, he would be my second-in-command by now."

At this, Seto raised an eyebrow. Jounouchi's face took on a red hue, and it was the same as when he begun to get angry or embarrassed from one of their fights. Seto remembered that shade well. He enjoyed pushing other people's buttons, especially because they could not push his own. Jounouchi was just one of those people. (If he ever pushed Seto's buttons, however, Seto never talked about it, not even in his subconscious.)

"I'm just gonna - " Jounouchi fumbled with his dishes. "Go. Uh. Yeah."

And with that, he hightailed it to the kitchen. The head chef began walking around, talking to some of the other workers, and Seto sat with his limbs strangely stiff. He tried to get comfortable, but found that it was hard enough and sighed in resignation.

Mokuba began chattering immediately, pausing to cough once in awhile or to get air. At these moments Seto gave Mokuba a concealed look of worry, which the younger seemed to get and dismissed easily, favoring to talk about the latest things he'd learned in school or the stuff that his friends had shared with him.

Finally, man came over to take their order. Seto ordered a steak au poivre well done, with nothing else but a glass of sparkling water. Mokuba, however, was dwarfed by his menu and peered down at the Japanese labels underneath the French ones, mumbling underneath his breath, unsure.

"He'll take another moment to order," Seto informed the waiter, who was now piqued with interest.

"Excuse me, sir," he asked Mokuba softly, who looked up in surprise. People rarely called _him_ 'sir', which was usually what his brother was addressed as. "Are you Mokuba Kaiba?"

At this, both brothers looked at him in confusion - Mokuba's more apparent. The waiter recognized Mokuba, but not Seto? It was an odd situation, and it nearly but Seto's hairs on end.

"Y-yeah," Mokuba replied, somewhat meek. The waiter gave a smile. "Our chefs recommend the special today for you, sir. Would you like me to place that order down?"

Mokuba looked quite bewildered, but Seto had pieced together the situation quick. It seemed as though Mokuba had too, so he nodded once, and the waiter gave one last smile before disappearing.

"Does that mean Jou is making something for me?" Mokuba asked him, curious eyes wide, and Seto gave an uncommitted grunt. Mokuba laughed, because this meant that even his great big brother had no clue.

After a while - not as much as Seto had waited earlier in the day - their orders came. Not by the waiter from before, though, but by Jounouchi himself. His apron was stained and his hair was still messy, but there was a smile on his face, this time more genuine. His eyes met Seto's and the brunette saw Jounouchi's smile falter briefly, meeting Seto's cool gaze with a brief glare. He set down a plate in front of Seto, which had his steak au poivre covered in a sweet smelling sauce with vegetables on the side. Then, from his tray, he said, "For ya, kiddo." and put down a small porcelain bowl in front of Mokuba.

Mokuba leaned forward eagerly. "It smells amazing," he said, awed. "What is it?"

"Boss calls it pot-au-feu," Jounouchi replied, setting down a plate of toasted bread, and then another with dipping sauce. He continued on and set down a glass of a dark amber liquid near Mokuba, with a slice of lemon on the glass edge. "Basically, it's beef stew with vegetables."

"Did you make it?"

"Made both yours and moneybags' over there," Jounouchi nodded, holding his tray flat to his hip. "So eat up."

"I've seemed to lost my appetite," Seto stated indifferently, looking down at his meal in disinterest. "I also don't remember ordering anything else, mutt."

Jounouchi growled a little. "Listen, jerk - there ain't anyone else ta make your food at this time a' night, so just eat, alrigh'?" Seto found little satisfaction in the annoyance in Jounouchi's face. "The bread and tea is on me. It's lemon sweet tea, and it's supposed ta' help your throat, kid."

"I thought this was your favorite place, Seto," Mokuba blinked at him innocently. He turned to Jou. "How'd you know I was sick?"

Jounouchi's expression eased somewhat, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "You're coughin' everywhere, kid, did'ya think I wouldn't notice?"

Mokuba smiled again. "Thanks Jou." He took a spoonful of his stew, and then brightened again. "Wow, this is really good! You sure you made it?"

Jounouchi scoffed. "Don't underestimate me, kid." He reached out a hand to ruffle Mokuba's hair again. Then, with a surprisingly civil, yet forced nod toward Seto's way, "Kaiba."

Seto didn't bother to respond.

He took a bite of his food, though, chewing thoughtfully for a moment.

"This tastes really good, brother," Mokuba motioned to his sweet tea. "I can see why you like this place so much. Did you know that Jounouchi worked here?"

"Not until recently," Seto mumbled back, taking another bite. And then another.

Mokuba grinned at him knowingly.

* * *

_National Center Test_ (大学入試センター試験) is a standardized exam held in Japan by private and public universities alike, sort of like an admission test into college.  
_head chef_ - in charge of all things related to the kitchen.  
_sous-chef_ - "under-chef" of the kitchen, second-in-command and direct assistant of the head chef.  
_chef de partie_ - station chef or line cook, in charge of a particular area of cooking. a _patissier_ is one of these chefs, usually in charge of pastries and desserts.  
_steak au poivre_ - a French dish that contains steak (most particularly filet mignon) coated with peppercorns and cooked. usually served with cognac sauce and mashed potatoes.  
_pot au feu_ - literally "pot on fire", a French beef stew. usually contains vegetables like carrots, onions, leeks, celery, and spices like black pepper and cloves.  
_mille-feuille_ - a French dessert, also known as a "Napoleon", made of three layers of puff pastry with either creme or jam. can have additions such as chocolate or fondant, confectioner's sugar, or nuts.


	3. chapter II

**a/n:** warning: I write emotionally crippling stuff. half insane babble, half internal conflict. someone get me to an english 101 class, stat. that being said, I _do_ write things that push upon touchy subjects, so jus' sayin', _if you can't handle it, please don't hesitate to stop reading._ bottom line is, these are real emotions here, and people with real problems (_yes they exist in my mind okay_) that don't go away with a hug and a kiss. and what bugs me a lot is that a lot of authors don't take these things seriously, half the time.

ah, I love broken people. ...I might be in need of psychological help. also, this is a slow-burn thing, and by slow burn, I mean you could put it on top of an ice cube and it still wouldn't melt. well then.

* * *

**Luftmensch  
**(n.) an impractical dreamer with no business sense; one with their head in the clouds.

"_when I look back, it was the people i cared about most deeply  
that ended up hurting me most."_

- tablo

* * *

**chapter II** - two types of happiness

* * *

His father hadn't been that mad when Jounouchi got home. It was what Jounouchi expected; the old man always was out Friday night and the morning after, probably wasted after all his poker games. Which meant trouble for Jounouchi too, because _that_ meant that most of their money had been squandered. Which meant more demands for cash from dear 'ol dad. Really, it was just a vicious fall downward, and Jounouchi treated it as a cycle to go through every month. Luckily, if he _did_ get another beating, he would have enough time to recover somewhat. The weekends were good for disappearing.

Jounouchi felt the start of a headache coming on. God, he hated thinking.

The apartment was empty when he entered, flicking on the light as he went. He set down his bag near the sofa and set down the plastic bag he took come with him on the coffee table. The light above flickered, and Jounouchi sighed before flopping backward.

_Oh fuck_. Bad decision. His hip and side gave an audible groan at the movement, and he was pretty sure his bruises hadn't faded yet either. His whole life seemed to be a string of bad decisions so far.

Rubbing his eyes somewhat, Jounouchi got out his cell from one of the pockets of his school bag. He had it turned off and in his locker the whole day, and not coming to school would have definitely brought some worry from his friends.

In the quiet of the living room, he pressed play for the three voicemails he received. The first was from Yugi, who sounded rather hurried and worried. "_Jou? Jou, this is the third time I've tried calling you. Are you okay? Are you sick? Did you oversleep again? Why didn't you come to school? I missed you! Call back when you can, okay?_" Jounouchi chuckled. Yugi honestly was too nice. Sometimes he wondered how he deserved a friend like Yugi.

The next was from Honda, who's voice was loud in the silence of his room. He was a bit more playful in his wording, but Jounouchi could hear the undercurrent of worry in his voice. Honda was the only one that semi-understood his situation at home. He didn't know much about the abuse, but he did know that his father was a bastard and was often strict on Jounouchi. It was the only way he could explain his situation.

The third was from Shizuka, and that was the one that made his eyes burn. For a while, he just appreciated the soft lilt of her voice. Her every word washed over him with extra exuberance, just like Shizuka herself, and it made his chest ache. He wanted to see his sister, his beautiful sister, the only family he'd ever had.

Jounouchi replayed the voice messages until his cell ran out of battery.

/

With a soft thump on the other side of the door, Jounouchi's head shot up. His mind was still groggy from sleep, and it took him awhile to get his bearings. When he did, Jounouchi waited with baited breath for the thumping to stop - or for them to get louder. For a heart stopping moment, they really did seem to get closer and closer, and so the blond felt his heart stop in his throat while he tried to blink away the darkness. He let out his breath when the sounds faltered and moved away, getting further and further into the hallway, and he knew his father had retreated to the depths of his own room.

Jounouchi was so relieved he felt like crying.

Soon his uneven breaths were taking up the air, constricting his flow. The darkness was suffocating, closing in on him from all sides, and it was all so cold so cold _so cold_ -

Fumbling with his thin blanket, Jounouchi struggled to get it off him - _get it off get it off suffocating choking get it OFF_ - but could only gasp for breath louder and louder as the blanket refused to stop getting tangled in his limbs. He was blinded by sudden pain in his left side and with a loud thump, he fell to the floor from his futon, sucking in a sharp breath. A blossom of hurt formed in his chest, spreading to the very tips of his fingers, setting his nerves on fire - for a second, he felt as though his whole _body_ was in pain - and he whined almost inaudibly to himself.

His heart was thudding loud and sudden in his chest, running miles a minute, going faster and faster as he tried to take in as much oxygen as he could - there wasn't enough air, _there wasn't enough air_ - and Jounouchi could feel his pulse storming loudly throughout his body. The darkness of his room seemed to close in on him, making the area seem much smaller than it already was. It clawed at him, climbed him, shut it's frosty grip over his heart until he wanted to sob, sob, sob for it to _go away_ -

Jounouchi weakly reached out for his tableside lamp, and after fumbling for a few minutes, he clicked it on. It was a weak light, flickering sometimes, but it eased up something very frigid in him. As he kept his eyes on the yellowing light, Jounouchi felt his heartbeat slow, his lungs expand, and somehow everything was beginning to be okay.

It was only a few minutes later, still in the aftershock of what had happened, did he realize it for what it was; a very intense, long forgotten panic attack. He hadn't gotten these since - since -

Jounouchi grasped fistfuls of his hair to shake those thoughts away. No. _No_. He refused - _refused_ - to go back to that place again.

It was too bad that even the slightest of things could set him off.

Shuddering, he tried to think of all the things that got rid of his panic attacks. Being warm usually helped. He wrapped his blanket around his shoulders, curling into himself, making him seem much more like a child than he usually was. Jounouchi stared at his tiny lamp, almost as if it was giving him warmth, like it was chasing away all the monsters that loomed in the dark.

It didn't. Jounouchi knew that, but he liked to pretend sometimes.

Quietly pacing his breath, Jounouchi checked the time on his cell and found that it was barely enough to be morning. He huddled himself up in the blanket further and leaned back against his futon, half on it. It was an uncomfortable position, but it didn't pull at his muscles or his wounds too much, so Jounouchi put his cell near his ear when he would hear it in the morning and closed his eyes.

Sleep came eventually came to drag him down temporarily, but Jounouchi was once again awoken in just a few minutes shy of seven in the morning. School wasn't until eight thirty, so he was good for now. His back hurt when he tried to stand up, but his room was much more lit with the sun's rays flooding in. For a moment, he stood still in the middle of his empty space, feeling everything catch up to him.

Then he ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

The blonde went through his usual morning routine - washing his face, taking a quick shower, changing clothes - before heading off into the kitchen to make himself breakfast. What he didn't expect, however, was his father sitting on the couch, his head staring forward at their TV almost somberly, eyes distant. Jounouchi, despite himself, froze in his spot for a second before he began to softly pad his way to the kitchen.

There was no way his dad didn't hear him; he had turned on the rice maker, and he put leftovers in the microwave to be warmed. Jounouchi was just glad that his old man was too far off to realize anything right now.

It seemed as though he spoke too soon, however, when he heard footsteps bounding unevenly into the kitchen. Jounouchi stopped for a brief second, before setting down the bowl he had in his hands and putting it on the kitchen counter.

There was a silence between him and his father for a moment, and Jounouchi found that his father's gaze wasn't as sharp or penetrating as it once used to be - in fact, Jounouchi barely felt it at all. If he tried hard enough, he could pretend that his father wasn't there at all.

Except he couldn't block the sounds of his father's ragged breathing, and so Jounouchi couldn't pretend that he wasn't there, that he wasn't hurt, that he wasn't unhappy.

As soon as Jounouchi set down a plate, however, he heard his father speak. "Son," he began, voice hoarse and much worse than the last time Jounouchi saw him sober, "I just - "

"Breakfast is warm for now, so you should eat it quickly," he cut in quickly. "I'm taking mine to go, so don't worry about me. I'll be late, so I'm off."

Jounouchi didn't wait to give his father a chance to stop him. He grabbed his keys off the counter, took his bookbag, and sped around his father before making it to the door in easy steps. Being quick was one of the best things he did.

Pretending was another one of those things too.

He could pretend that his father would get better if he tried, that he wouldn't be such a bastard if he wasn't drunk, but Jounouchi always knew that his father was a rotten human being at heart. It didn't stop him from hoping, or pretending, and sometimes that would be enough to get through another day - another morning when his dad would come in the through the door with that ashamed, _sorry_ look in his eyes, and expect Jounouchi to forgive him again. Sad thing was, if Jounouchi didn't stop it in time, he would.

He always did.

Even now, walking through the streets when he was at least forty minutes early for school, he could feel the chipped parts of his heart giving away, begging for him to forgive his dad, that _he didn't mean it_ and _he can get better he really can he really can - _!

And no matter how much Jounouchi tried not to, he always fell to those whims, always broke down inside. It killed him, hurt him, because _fuck_ he knew that this would happen again, that this _always_ happens and it really shouldn't be if only he had the fucking courage to stop the vicious cycle before it began. But Jounouchi was always prone to listening to his heart than his head, and his father still held a large portion of it.

He couldn't forgive the man that beat him on a daily basis, that came home drunk and angry and dark, couldn't forgive the man that made him feel like he was gum on the bottom of someone's shoe. But he kept forgiving the man that tucked him in when he was five, that combed his hair for his elementary graduation, that smiled that crooked half smile whenever he drew a new picture for their fridge. He always forgave that man, because in the end, some part of him refused to acknowledge that those were two different people. Two entities entirely.

Welling up at the sudden emotion inside him, Jounouchi stopped his walking for a moment. He was in one of the parks that led up to his school; the cherry blossom trees planted on each side were not yet in full bloom, but a sweet scent rose in the air. He pushed himself down against a tree, away from the main walking path, and took a deep breath.

Something burned bad behind his eyes, and Jounouchi clenched his hands because he knew that he wouldn't cry, so what was the point of feeling like crap? Eventually, he'd have to get up and move on.

Quietly, the blond opened up his voice messages again, and listened to Shizuka's calming voice, thinking _oh god I miss her_ and _I want to see her_ and just wishing, wishing for a moment where he wouldn't be so goddamn lonely.

And after he heard Shizuka's message for the fourth time without actually listening to her words, he got up and smiled, prepared for another day at school. If he had paid attention, Jounouchi would have noticed the slight shake in his sister's voice, a sort of underlying unhappiness that, if pushed enough, could threaten to swallow someone whole.

/

Shizuka boarded off the train with a large sigh, feeling like she could finally breathe. It wasn't that far from where she was living in the first place, but the mornings were filled with the rush hour, and she was pressed up against people she never knew in her life. It made for an uncomfortable ride.

Many passengers paused to give her an odd look, but Shizuka didn't blame them. What would a girl in her school uniform and luggage be doing at nearly ten in the morning, when she should be at school? To be honest, Shizuka didn't know herself.

All she knew was the all-encompassing anger that was slowly growing and burst out of her yesterday, seeing red as she packed up quietly and efficiently, going to sleep with an errant mind on full blast.

She didn't plan to leave, not really, but it just happened. Most of her stuff - a lot of clothes, a bunch of her valuables - were with her, but she couldn't take everything with her. That was fine. Her mother didn't wake up in the mornings to check on her anyway, and instead of going to school she took her savings and bought a ticket to Domino as soon as she could. It wasn't like she needed a brand new handbag anyway.

She was sick and tired of being so angry (_worthless_) all the time. She just wanted to get away.

The only problem in Shizuka's plan that she had not realized until now, was that she didn't know where her brother lived. She imagined that she would crash at his place for a while, until she could get her head back together, but it seemed like that plan fell apart as soon as she realized _she had no idea where he lived_.

And thus, Shizuka also wondered why she never knew this earlier. Whenever she visited Domino, she always found a room in a hotel waiting for her, and Katsuya never took her home...she hasn't even seen their father, in all the times that she'd visited...and though it never seemed to piece together as it did now, Shizuka grimaced to think that she had never even noticed this before.

She tried calling Katsuya's phone again, like she had last night, but with a short frown, she realized her brother was probably at school and put it on silent, as usual. Sighing, Shizuka walked out of the train station, passing in between nameless nobodies to head off to the nearest place to sit. Domino was a slightly familiar place, and she recognized a park nearby whenever she visited. Katsuya often took her there, saying that it was a short walk away from his place. So maybe he lived nearby...?

The auburn haired girl sat down on a park bench, facing a bunch of kids on a swingset as she did so. Her stomach rumbled in calling of food; Shizuka ignored it faithfully. She thought back to her anger-fueled stomp this morning, and realized that she hadn't eaten anything. A bloom of satisfaction caused her lips to turn up.

For a while, she did nothing but sit there, checking the time once in a while, wishing that it was past three so she could call her brother. She sat on her bench - yes, _her_ bench, now dubbed so because...just because - and fiddled around with her things some. She played games on her phone, took out a book to read, and basically wasted time for a good two hours. It was a little past noon, and the day was a little on the hot side, so she fanned herself lightly.

Leaning against the bench, Shizuka closed her eyes, and flashes of her mom's furious expression, features twisted and lips tightly pressed, assaulted her. No doubt she would have to face that once she got home. If she ever did.

Shizuka didn't like the fact that she thought about home at all. Frowning sourly, she blamed it on her mother's brainwashing.

She was about to check the time again when a mildly familiar voice called out, "Shizuka?"

Turning around at the speed of light, the auburn-haired girl was met with dark eyes and dark hair. It took a minute, but her features cleared up into recognition, and then - "_Mokuba?_"

Shizuka called it luck, ten minutes later, when they were heading into a cafe nearby the park. It was a nutty little place, and it smelled like peanut butter and chocolate. Mokuba grinned at her, his face a little flushed, taller than she remembered. She met him briefly before when she visited Domino, and they were mutual acquaintances.

"What're you doing here?" was the first thing Mokuba asked her, eyes worried. He sounded a little different. "Are you here to visit Jou? But shouldn't you be in school by now?" He wisely didn't mention her luggage, or her disheveled appearance. Shizuka was grateful.

She fumbled with her fingers, clutching them tightly around a steaming cup of hot chocolate. "I, uh..." her voice trailed off, strangely frail, before she licked her lips and it came back strong. "I came to see Katsuya. I just, I didn't..." How to tell someone that you didn't know where your brother lived? It was embarrassing, oh god. But she knew that Mokuba was friends with her brother - maybe he knew were Katsuya lived? She could meet up at his house beforehand and maybe do something for him when he got home.

"Katsuya?" Mokuba gave her a confused glance, before coughing briefly into a tissue. Shizuka felt a pang of sympathy for him; it was horrible to be sick this time of year. "Who's that?"

"My brother," she supplied helpfully. "His first name's Katsuya."

"Really? I've only ever called him Jou." Mokuba seemed a little surprised and sheepish. In essence, he supposed he always knew Jounouchi's first name, but never gave much thought to it. Everyone called the blond "Jounouchi" or "Jou". He'd rarely heard his first name. In fact, it rolled quite awkwardly off his own tongue, but it was a pretty name nonetheless. "Guess you learn new things every day, huh? But why at this time? You could've waited for spring break."

Shizuka's expression melted into something of worry, and there was a hint of anguish in her face that alarmed Mokuba to something being wrong. Her knuckles were white, she was clutching her cup so forcefully.

"Problems," she told him finally, voice tight. "Just...yeah. Being around my brother is therapeutic for me, so I hoped...I hoped I could stay with him for a while. But I don't - I don't know where he lives, and I just sort of floundered around for a bit," she sighed.

Mokuba smiled at her. "Well, why don't you come back with me? I'm pretty bored at home - I've got a bad case of the flu, as you can see, and Seto says that I have to stay home until I get better." Mokuba rolled his eyes. "It's why I snuck out to take a walk. Being outside makes me feel better. Once school's over, I'll call Jou, and he can come pick you up. Sound good?"

"You're a friend for life," Shizuka told him gratefully, and Mokuba laughed, already feeling much better.

/

It came as a great surprise to Seto when he heard loud laughter echoing inside his home. It was Mokuba's laughter, no doubt, because Seto recognize the tones of his brother's voice - but there was a second chuckling following shortly after. A feminine voice, not as loud as his brothers but distinguishable, and Seto's mind went up in red flags.

He set his briefcase down on the coffee table in the living room and then slowly padded his way to the kitchen, where the origin of the laughter was. _Mokuba is too young for girlfriends_, was his first disgruntled thought. Mokuba had just reached fourteen! He wasn't old enough, no way, no how!

And _where_ did he find a girl to bring in to their house? What if Mokuba had been talking to her behind his back, going out with her all this while? It may have been why he had been so easy to placate lately. Oh god, she was probably a gold digger anyway, in search of his brother's money.

So when Seto silently made his entrance into the kitchen, his face was stoically angry before he realized one - two - three - that the girl sitting across from his brother was slightly familiar.

Her eyes, which were an unnervingly familiar shade of brown, slid to him as the door opened. Mokuba, in turn, followed her eyes and Seto met with his brother's happy gray graze before the younger Kaiba sprung up and rushed to welcome him home.

Seto was rewarded with a hug and a perky, "Welcome back!" He gave a small twitch of the lips to Mokuba, who stepped back and grinned brightly at him. He looked far better than yesterday.

"Seto, this is Shizuka," Mokuba launched directly into introductions, waving his hands in the auburn haired girl's direction. "She's Jou's sister."

Ah, no wonder she seemed so familiar. He had seen her once before, hanging around her brother, no doubt.

She had the same eyes as Jounouchi's, except hers were darker - Jounouchi's were lightly, almost hazel, sometimes earthy brown in the darkness and amber gold in the light.

She held similarities to him, too - they shared a mouth, a small nose. But Shizuka's features were more feminine and delicate; her face was rounded slightly with youth, and her eyes are slightly larger, and she had a bigger forehead.

"Ah," he said simply. "What is she doing here?"

"She came to visit Jou," Mokuba replied cheerfully, "But didn't know his address, so I found her ni the park!"

Oh. So stupidity was a family trait.

Shizuka seemed pained at the answer though, and winced, bowing her head to look at her hands. At least she had more bashfulness than her idiot of a brother.

"Since you're home from school, that means Jou's probably going home too," Mokuba told Shizuka, who looked up at him. "I'll go call him to pick you up from here."

At this, Seto's head snapped up. "What? No. That imbecile isn't coming to my home."

Shizuka's eyes flashed at him. "My brother is _not_ an imbecile."

Mokuba looked back and forth between them nervously, chuckling to get rid of the tension. "Listen, brother, I'm just going to call him to pick up Shizuka, okay? It'll take five minutes at best."

Seto pursed his lips, disliking the thought of that..._dog_ treading his way into Seto's neat home, but once he saw Mokuba's pleading eyes, he gave a jerky nod. After all, it would only take five minutes.

Mokuba gave them both a beaming look and pulled out his cell, calling Jounouchi. For his brother's sake, Mokuba put it on speaker. It rings once, twice, a cheap little ring until someone picks up. At first, there's the buzz of something in the background - chatter, things clinking - until a gruff but surprisingly tired voice answers, "_Hello_?"

"Jou?" Mokuba asks, blinking at Shizuka. "Is that you?"

"_Mokie_?" The little nickname makes Seto frown. Since when was the blond so familiar with his brother? "_Ah, I didn't see the caller ID. What's up? I'm at work right now, so if anything's wrong..." _

"No, nothing's wrong," Mokuba assures him. Then he pauses. "Well..." he shares a look with Shizuka, who pipes up suddenly, saying, "Katsuya?"

Seto frowns even more. Was that Jounouchi's first name? It sounded odd. He'd never heard anyone call him by his first name before.

There's a brief pause on the other side of the line, as the sounds of the background - most probably the restaurant - grow larger, and then Jounouchi's voice answers, incredulous. "_Shizuka?_"

"Big brother!" Shizuka takes the phone from Mokuba's hands. "I'm at Mokuba's house. Do you think - "

"_At Kaiba's? Why are you - what are you doing in Domino? Shizuka, it takes two hours to get here, did you skip school? What were you thinking?_"

Shizuka literally flinched at the growing distress in Jounouchi's voice, as if his unhappiness in her being there made it physically painful. Swallowing and upset, she said, "I wanted to get away from mom, Katsuya. You don't understand - I couldn't be there any longer - and I thought I could stay with you - "

"_Stay with me?_"

Jounouchi's sudden interference caused her to blink. "Yeah. For a couple of days, at least." She bit her lip, nervous, and Mokuba gave her a sympathetic glance. The background noise on Jounouchi's side lessened, and Seto found himself strangely watching their conversation like it's a particularly enthralling duel.

There's a moment of silence from Jounouchi, but it's unread properly. Shizuka started babbling on again, saying, "I won't be much trouble - I can make up school work after a week or so, I just can't stand being in that house anymore and, and being with you always makes it better big brother so I - "

"_No_."

Jounouchi's voice was as cold and emotionless as Seto's ever heard it, and it takes all three of them by surprise. Shizuka stared at the phone in shock, and something like rising anger in her expression along with the barest hints of desperation. "But - "

"_I'm going to pick you up from Kaiba's house and I'm going to buy you a ticket back home. Don't argue with me, Shi._" Jounouchi sounded more like himself, but tired. Very, very tired. Seto had the urge to walk back to his office, because he's unused to Jounouchi being anything but the loudmouthed, stupid brat he is. "_You shouldn't have come in the first place_."

He hung up right after, and Shizuka is immobile, silent, even as Mokuba reached out to try and bring her back to earth.

Seto disappeared into his room.

/

Bad days are a _thing_ now, he supposed.

School was a little tense, mostly because Jounouchi was now plagued with the knowledge of having _Seto Kaiba _know his dirty little secret, but it was also due to the lack of sleep he was getting. Something was pulling him down - a nagging, bad feeling that began in the morning and now refused to leave him alone.

Shizuka's phone call came just when he thought the feeling was beginning to go away.

When he heard that she was _here_, that she was in _Domino_, Jounouchi felt just the highest of his spirits lift. A grin had broke across his face before he realized something. Shizuka was _here._ In Domino. And immediately, that smile had faded, replaced with a quickly growing sense of horror and fear - fear so strong that it left Jounouchi immobile for a moment. Especially when she asked to _stay with him_.

No. Oh god, _hell no_.

There were so many thoughts running through his head right then he didn't know what to pay attention to first. It could've been how easily Shizuka would have outed him right then and there, and he couldn't have that if he wanted a place to live and his friends and - and then Shizuka, why was she _here_? Did she have problems at home? Oh god, was her mother - ? No, Jounouchi refused to think like that, he refused to believe something like that could happen. No way.

But the fear was so strong and adamant that it stuck in his throat, and he had to get her home. Had to get her away from him, from his poisonous touch, from his very vulnerable self before he broke.

So Jounouchi asked for an hour long break which he was given and immediately began to run towards the Kaiba mansion, going on vague memory and circling pedestrians all the while looking for a large, looming home. He found it, eventually, sweaty and panting, before swearing and running a hand through his bangs.

Jounouchi rang the doorbell in front of the iron gates, and it took a total of ten minutes total to get him inside the Kaiba mansion.

He was led by a maid who wrinkled her nose at him momentarily at his scruffy appearance, before leading him to the kitchen, where Shizuka was sitting with Mokuba, looking visibly upset.

Jounouchi didn't even have time to appreciate the kitchen. All he saw was Shizuka's pale face, auburn hair pulled back, and how he could suddenly see the sharpness of her collarbones. They faced off each other for a second, Shizuka worrying her bottom lip and Jounouchi staring at her with wide eyes, before the younger girl stood up silently and made her way over to him. She gave him a large hug, burying her head in his chest, before sniffling.

Looking up at Mokuba, who just looked confused, he mouthed, _ten minutes?_ Mokuba nodded in understanding and left the siblings alone for a second.

Jounouchi let Shizuka hug him for a moment longer before he returned it, wrapping his arms around his sister's form. She was smaller, most definitely. Something was wrong.

"Shi?" he asked, hesitant. "Is...everythin' okay?"

It was a moment, but Shizuka pulled away, sighing. "No. No I - Katsuya, please let me stay with you."

His sister's voice was much more smaller than he remembered, almost desperate. It echoed in the kitchen something empty and begging to be heard, and Jounouchi's heart clenched painfully at it. "I can't, Shizuka. I'm sorry."

"Why?"

Swallowing, he continued, "I just can't. There are some problems with the home and - I couldn't force ya under that." Never would he try to put her under that. And because he wanted the topic to shift off them quickly, he frowned and stared at her. "Why are ya so thin? Shi?"

Shizuka sniffed. "I can't go back, Katsuya. Mom is killing me, she really is. I feel like - " here her voice broke, and Jounouchi forget all about the fact that she completely ignored his earlier question, "I feel like I'm being squeezed into this tiny box and I can't breathe, big brother. She's pressuring me to do all these things and be this person but I'm not and I can't handle all her demands and I just _can't be the person she wants me to be_."

For a moment, all Jounouchi can do is stand and stare at the little girl whose his sister, at the kind thing before him breaking into pieces. At it killed him; if he had one thing to protect in his life, it would be his friends. And his sister was his best friend, in some ways.

So he reached out and pulled her to him, putting a hand in her hair. Shizuka sniffed again and folded against him, and Jounouchi can _feel_ how thin she is - the sharpness of her elbows, the plains of her shoulders. It was almost unnatural, and Jounouchi can feel the beginnings of his brotherly protectiveness creep up on him. For a moment, he just let her calm down before saying, "I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't, I bet you had problems of your own," Shizuka murmured. "I didn't want to bother you with mine. But I couldn't take it anymore, big bro. If I stayed any longer..."

She didn't say it outright, but Jounouchi heard the implied bad endings at the end of her sentence.

"I can't let ya stay with me, Shi," he said. "I'm sorry for havin' ta send ya back to her, but it would be too hard for me t' take care of ya right now, an' I don' know what else I can do. I don' want you to live like I do lil' sis. Try t' see it from my perspective."

"Where am I gonna go, Katsuya? I can't go back to her, not now. Please, if I can't stay with you - "

"Hey, Jou?" came a quiet, timid voice from the doorway. Both Jounouchi and Shizuka turned around to look at Mokuba, who gazed on with such a reluctant expression that Jounouchi couldn't find it in him to be mad about the little Kaiba eavesdropping. "She can stay here. With me - if, if it'd be okay."

Jounouchi's eyebrows raised to his hairline. "Here? In Kaiba mansion?" he paused. "I don' think your brother'll be too happy about that."

Mokuba's lips pressed together in a thin line. "Shizuka-chan is my friend. I'm still pretty sick, and I can't go outside for the next few days anyway, so I'd be pretty bored here by myself."

Seeing where Mokuba was going, Shizuka sent him a grateful look and then spun to her brother. "Please, Katsuya? It sounds like a great idea to me."

"You mean except for the fact that yer stayin' in _Kaiba mansion_. Which, if you haven't noticed, houses one of the guys that _hates me_."

"Seto doesn't hate you," Mokuba argued, but then sobered under Jounouchi's raised eyebrow. "He doesn't, I think..."

"Either way - "

"I'll ask him!" Mokuba cut in. "It really is lonely here by myself, and Seto can't stand to see me unhappy. Please, Jou?"

Under the force of two sudden puppy eyes, Jounouchi frowned sourly, but then sighed. "Alright."

Shizuka grinned widely and pulled her brother in for a hug, which eased his displeasure, and then gave Mokuba a hug too, which made the younger Kaiba blush until the tops of his ears were red.

Then he paled slightly. _Now_ he had to convince his brother to let Shizuka stay.

Well, that was fine. Mokuba Kaiba had been through worse.

/

"Absolutely _not_."

Mokuba sighed, a long suffering sound, and Seto's irritation rose.

"Seto," his little brother began, "Don't be unreasonable."

In response to Mokuba's matter-of-fact tone, Seto sat rigidly in his chair. It was cold in his study, as it always was, even though it looked perfectly nice outside. The walls were a quiet blue, covered in bookshelves and paintings. On one side, there was a large ornate desk that Seto did his work on - it was old, very old, and seemed sort of silly when the brunette would be there with his laptop and charger. Which was where he sat right now.

"I'm not being unreasonable, Mokuba. There's no reason for Jounouchi's little sister to be here." Seto had fallen into a flat tone that spoke volumes of his displeasure. It wasn't because he disliked the girl as much as he disliked Jounouchi, per say - even though she seemed to have the same blind loyalty her brother had - but he couldn't deal with taking care of two people, one he didn't even like. Seto was cold, but was not heartless enough to neglect the watch of someone in his care.

Mokuba, however, thought that his brother was refusing based on his emotions only, and thought it was very immature. Even more than that, it was really beginning to irritate Mokuba on a level he didn't know he could be irritated. Seto was beginning to suck the happiness out of his life, and thought it sounded rather whiny and teenage-angst worthy, Mokuba just wanted a _friend_.

And he told Seto such.

"Big brother. I'm going to be alone for a week, maybe even more, because of my cold. Why can't Shizuka stay? I mean, I know her schoolwork isn't of importance, and she said she would take care of it. Wherever I would be, she would be, and we'd stay in the house. I just don't want to be alone here."

Seto looked up, frown already marring his features, and then took a glance at Mokuba's watering eyes.

He sighed.

"Fine."

* * *

yeah, uh, this whole thing was super rushed, extremely sorry. not proud of this chapter. it's important, BUT I COULD HAVE DONE THE ENDING BETTER. too lazy to go back and fix it. oops.


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